


Swing high, sweet frying pan

by Cluck_and_Peck



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Baggins, F/M, Female Bilbo, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-14 23:39:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3429800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluck_and_Peck/pseuds/Cluck_and_Peck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Company knocks on the door to Bag-End to find a hobbit as resolute as a Baggins and as quick to temper as a Took. She would fit right in with them of course, now if only they could get her to stop threatening them every other second and sign the damned contract.</p><p>Or</p><p>In which being angry at having her house invaded, Mistress Baggins does her best imitation of a serial killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She swung the green door open and was surprised to say the least at the sight of the stranger at her doorstep.

“Dwalin, at your service.” He bowed and made to way his way into the house when she slammed her hand on the frame and blocked it.

“I wasn’t aware that I required anyone’s service.” She said through her tight smile. His eyes wandered behind her and she snapped her fingers angrily. “Eyes on me. What exactly are you doing here _Dwalin_?”

He glared down at her but she did not budge. “Aren’t you the Burglar? Baggins something?”

“Burglar, no, Baggins yes. But there are more than one Baggins in the Shire perhaps try their smials.” She went to shut the door but he scoffed.

“Then why does your door say you’re the Burglar?”

She cocked a brow. “I thought it was stone that Dwarves had the affinity for, I had no idea they could talk to doors!”

He flushed and drew himself to his full height. She canted her head as if to say ‘really?’.

“The mark on your door says you’re a burglar who needs employment.”

“The mark on the door you’re talking about was scratched onto it by an old fool against my wishes.”

The scratch of nail on wood had been an unmistakable sound, although she hadn’t actually seen any mark there. Figured that a wizard would leave a magical mark.

“So you aren’t expecting us?”

“I am hoping that the ‘us’ you used is because you’re counting the voices in your head as separate people, but I’m guessing not?” Her eyes narrowed shrewdly and he sighed and wilted, his gigantic frame melting and taking her anger with it.

“The wizard made a right fool out of us, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know about making a fool out of me but he’s certainly made an enemy.”

“I’ll take my leave of you then Mistress Baggins.” He bowed again and turned to leave when she cried out.

“Not so fast Mister Dwalin. Explain the ‘us’ before the ‘us’ start knocking on my door.”

Dwalin had no real reason to answer her but the soldier in him responded to the commands she threw at him. “My companions and I were directed by Gandalf to make our way to your house.”

“Why?”

“With all due respect Mistress Baggins, since you are not to be a part of our Company it would not be prudent to disclose our reasons.”

“Alright then, tell me how many of you will be here.”

“Why?” He glared at her, suspicious.

“So that I may plan my revenge on Gandalf proportionately of course.” She snorted like it was a stupid question.

“It may not be the wisest course of action to anger a wizard.”

She scoffed. “It probably also isn’t the wisest decision to bar a  heavily armed dwarf double my size from entering my house but as you might have noticed, I have done exactly that. Now, numbers.”

“Thirteen total.” He said reluctantly.

“The Green Dragon won’t have enough food nor space for you lot then. Alright you can come in and I’ll entertain the rest.”

“And what would you ask in return.”

“Oh a little help in dealing with the Wizard, that’s all.”

It was a fair trade especially since his growing anger at the Wizard made him want his fair share of revenge too.“ As you wish.”

“Oh and before I forget.” She swept into a mocking curtsy. “Bellamira Baggins, at your service.”

* * *

 

Dwalin was only halfway through the fish and taking his sweet time with it too, stopping every other second to look up at Bellamira. She remained cold and aloof, although not so much like an elf as an angry cold-drake. The tinkling sound of the doorbell filled the air and Dwalin all but sighed in relief at the thought of having a fellow dwarf to share the awkwardness with.

“That’d be the door.” He said tentatively

She shot him a most scathing look. “You don’t say?”

And he stuffed the fish, head and all into his mouth if only to stop the little whimper from making its way out his throat, glad to see the back of her.

“Balin, at your service.” The jovial voice had him rushing off his seat and going to the door himself and before she could say anything, he pulled his brother in and into the pantry.

“Evening brother.” Balin continued still quite happy and Dwalin answered him in hushed tones.

“She had no idea we were coming.”

Balin frowned. “The wizard said-“

“He lied.” The cold, cold voice had them both flinching and slowly Dwalin turned to see Bellamira there, leaning against the doorway watching them intently. “Since I have no idea what dwarves prefer or don’t I shall leave the decision of the pantry up to you, does that sound okay?”

Dwalin had never known of anyone who had the ability to take the question out of the question like that. He had the urge to salute and answer her like he had once done as a guard on patrol, answering higher officers.

“We can work with that.” Balin answered for him, still maintaining his happy voice.

Once again they were saved by the bell and as she left to answer it the two brothers exchanged loaded glances.

* * *

“Fili-“

“And Kili-“

“At your service.” The two bowed as one and Bellamira’s mounting rage stopped for a brief moment as the urge to coo over the two reared its head.

“You must be Mistress Boggins.” The dark haired one said and the urge to coo left with it.

 _Boggins_?!

“No I’m not.”

Their faces fell and she felt like she had kicked puppies. Adorable, fluffy puppies.

“Did we come to the wrong house then?”  

The one with the golden hair stopped and looked at the outside of the door before frowning.

“No, it’s the right house.”

“That’s a relief!” The other one said and pushed in, Bellamira letting them get away with it on account of their youth. Any allowance she was want to mete out to them stopped when the golden haired one dumped his swords and knives in her arms.

“Careful with those, I’ve just had them sharpened.”

She smiled, all teeth. “All the better to gut people with.”

He paled and took the knives back from her pushing Kili away from where he was defiling her mother’s glory box and all but ran to Dwalin’s side. She whistled a tune while walking back to the pantry when the bell rang again.

This time a big pile of dwarves fell in, one clutching her doorbell in his hand and even as she grew angrier she calmed as Gandalf appeared behind them.

Now she could truly unleash her anger.

* * *

As stray shouts from the drawing room reached them, the dwarves who were clustered around the pantry flinched and shuddered. The lass had quite a set of lungs on her.

Still, no one wanted to face a hungry Bombur either and they set out to have their dinner and if they spoke a bit louder than usual in an attempt to drown out the yelling, then well it was only to be expected.

But the dwarves had plenty of food and the forced cheer soon turned real especially with Bofur and his inability to let their spirits remain bogged down for long.

The hobbit and the wizard returned only when they were done with their supper and cleaning up, the latter looking suitably chastised and sporting very red ears that almost looked like they had been boxed.  

“Excuse me, that is a doily not a dishcloth!” She exclaimed as Nori walked past her.

“But it’s full of holes!” Bofur said and she rolled her eyes.

“It’s supposed to look like that its crochet.”

“Oh and a wonderful game it is too, if you’ve the balls for it.” Bofur teased but the smile slid off his face when she shot him a blank look.

“Firstly, it’s crochet not croquet and secondly, I do have the balls for it actually.” She leaned forward and he bent back to avoid her. “Do you?”

“Mahal’s balls!” The hatted miner said as she stalked off to have yet another confrontation with Gandalf one that stopped only when the door was knocked upon loudly.

“He is here.” Gandalf announced gravely and she raised a brow and looked at the dwarves in her kitchen.

“You’re missing one.”

“An important one.” Bofur joked.

No one laughed.

Gandalf opened the door this time which was just as well because no one saw the first meeting between their leader and Mistress Baggins going well.

“Gandalf I thought you said this place would be easy to find.” Thorin stepped in, proudly and for a moment Mistress Baggins was forgotten. “I lost my way twice.” The petty little snort of laughter made them aware of her again and Thorin noticed her as well.

“So this is the hobbit.” Dwalin cringed, knowing this was not going to end well. “Tell me Mistress Baggins, have you done much fighting?”

“I’m pretty certain I’m about to.” She glared at him but he ignored her words.

“Axe or Sword? What is your weapon of choice?”

“Cast iron skillet.”

 He scoffed. “Thought as much. She looks more like a grocer than a Burglar.”

She smiled. “I’m surprised you know what a grocer looks like, it’s a concept for the civilised world and judging from your lack of manners you don’t belong to it.”

“You would dare-“

“My house, my rules.” She snarled and even Thorin took a step back. “First rule, you insult me, you get a frying pan to your head.”

“Like you coul-“

“You continue insulting me and the frying pan is one that has just been taken off the hob.”

He scoffed again. “I’d like to see you try it.”

She smiled the first genuine smile of the night. “I’m glad you said that.”

Exactly where the frying pan came from and how it managed to strike a dwarf like Thorin hard enough to render him unconscious, no one knew. But no one broke the rules while they waited for the fearless leader to come around.

In fact, no one said anything at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Thorin came to the same way he went out, with a frown. He blinked to clear the bleariness and shifted to the side to see Balin looking over him nervously.

“Balin? What-”

“You alright lad?”

And the events that led to his being laid out on the bed came to Thorin.

“Did the Halfling really-“

The clearing of a throat interrupted them and Balin closed his eyes for a second before turning to the hobbit in question standing near the base of the bed with crossed arms. “First rule, remember? You do _not_ insult me.”

He frowned, confused. “And how did I insult you now?”

“Mister Oakenshield, I am not half of anything. Understood?” She loomed, her eyes flashing with something dark and he could just make out Dwalin standing behind her in the doorway, cringing.

“Understood.” He replied hoarsely and she smiled brilliantly and flounced off.

“I’ll go get some of the stew then.”

“Balin?” Thorin said weakly.

“Yes, lad?”

“I think I’m in love.”

Balin sighed and turned to Dwalin who was still cowering in the doorway.

“Get Oin, I think he might have a concussion.”

* * *

 

“So, Gandalf.” Bellamira said once Thorin was finished eating and they all sat at the dining table, circled around it like a cabal. “This is presumably the part where you take the map and key from your pockets.”

“What, how did you-?”

She shrugged. “I snuck a peek while you were busy drinking wine.”

For a moment Gandalf looked enraged but then a thoughtful expression took over him and he smiled wildly around the pipe. “I thought we might have allowed Thorin to say his piece but I suppose we might as well get on with it.”

“Yes, perhaps we can discuss the matter of entry.” Balin said dryly. “The Front gate is sealed, and for good reason too. There is no way into the mountain.”

“I do believe Gandalf’s key opens a door to it.” Bellamira observed. “Looked very dwarvish to me.”

Gandalf glared at her but did not say anything else, simply taking the key out of his sleeve and relishing the dumbstruck expressions on Thorin’s face.

“It was given to me by your father, by Thrain for safekeeping. It is yours now.”

“Does that unseal the Front Gate?” She asked.

“No, it does not.”

“Then what does it open?”

Gandalf took the map out and laid it on the table pointing at the red letters on the side.

“These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls.”

“There’s another way in.” Kili exclaimed.

Bellamira snorted, “Best of luck finding it, it’s a hidden passage, the door must be hidden as well.”

Gandalf nodded in agreement. “Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden in this map but I do not have the skill to find it.”

“Then go to Lord Elrond.” She scoffed.

“I wouldn’t trust the weed eaters with the legacy of my people.” Thorin rumbled and Balin nodded.

Bellamira smirked. “Well then, you’re paddling up shit creek without an oar. All these lovely secrets mean you won’t be entering that mountain anytime soon. Probably for the best what with that dragon roosting there.”

“Now now, I don’t think it is quite as futile as that.”

“You’ve got a map you can’t read that leads to a door you can’t find because the map can’t be read and then a dragon who has already laid siege to two cities.”

“You seem to be well informed for a hobbit.” Balin said suspiciously.

“And you seem not so well informed for people about to march onto a mountain.”

“And who told you we were marching onto Erebor?”

She looked at Balin as if he was an idiot and he soon began to feel like it. “ _You_ did when you asked Gandalf how you would enter into a mountain which has its front gate sealed off.”

He turned bright red and leaned back in his chair subdued and Dwalin patted his shoulder. Both shot Thorin disbelieving looks when he whispered softly, “She’s so smart!” staring at Bellamira with stars in his eyes.

Gandalf chose that moment to clear his throat. “If we are careful and clever I believe it can be done.”

“That’s why we need a burglar!” Ori said and turned to her with great excitement. She did not reciprocate his enthusiasm.

“Firstly, you have no way into the mountain, secondly while you all want me to be a Burglar- or so I assume based off what I’ve heard so far- I am not _actually_ a Burglar.”

“Treasure seeker then.” Nori interjected. “You stole from a wizard.”

“I didn’t steal from him; I simply borrowed without his permission and then returned it. Besides which there is the fact that I haven’t exactly agreed to go with you lot. Odd I may be but no matter what the Shire thinks of me, they also know me to be sensible. It does not seem sensible to up and leave my rather comfortable home for no good reason except to save a Kingdom that has apparently been forsaken by all but thirteen.”

Bristling silence prevailed and when it continued a smidge too long Bellamira rolled her eyes.

“That was your cue to give me a good reason.”

Balin cleared his throat. “There is gold-“

She dismissed the words with a flick of her fingers. “I’m a hobbit, gold means very little to me. Something else.”

“...The glory of –“

“No. Try again.”

“Well then, I fear if we leave the dragon there for too long then darker forces will try to take over the mountain and bring back long forgotten kingdoms of great evil and eventually turn their greedy eyes upon the rest of Middle Earth, Shire included.” Gandalf said.

Incredulous eyes turned in unison to the wizard who pointedly ignored them all, instead choosing to puff away on his pipe.

“Crikey Gandalf, you _have_ been holding out haven’t you?!” There was laughter in her voice. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I certainly can’t go on the quest _now_ , you haven’t given me any warning whatsoever or allowed me time to settle my affairs. I can’t very well go off adventuring and leave my home, Lobelia will have her hands all over it, just like she did last time.”

“So you’re saying that if we give you time to settle your affairs you’ll be willing to accompany us?”

She shrugged but Gandalf took that as a positive and beamed.

“Excellent, Balin if we may have the contrac-“

They were stopped in their discussion when a knock on the door sounded.

_Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat_

The sound had everyone stilling but Gandalf rumbled where he was sitting and turned flashing eyes to Thorin.

“Who else did you tell of your quest?”

“No one.”

“Whom did you tell?!”

“No one I swear! You’re the one spilling our secrets Tharkun, or did you forget that it was _you_ who brought Miss Baggins into this?” He all but whirled to look at Bellamira who was making her way to the door. “Not that I do not appreciating meeting you. It has been the greatest pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Baggins.” He smouldered in her general direction.

“I wish I could reciprocate.” She sneered, ignoring his crestfallen expression and the patronising pat on the shoulder Kili gave him and turned to Gandalf, her hand resting on the door knob. “And Gandalf, this may not have occurred to you but there just so happens to be a very high chance that whoever comes knocking on my door is here for _me_ and not for the random guests.”

The knock sounded again with the same pattern repeating itself and with a roll of her eyes Bellamira swung the door open and fingers tensed around axes, swords and all sorts of pointy objects.

“Oh pumpkin you’re up, I was afraid I was going to wake you up.” A rather nice voice sounded and in stepped a hobbit that looked so much like Mistress Baggins she would have to be related t her.

Without a care she whirled in throwing her coat off and hanging it on the peg by the door stopping only when she saw Gandalf.

“You!” She said in the same angry cold voice that Bellamira had used and as a smug smile took over her face they knew this older hobbitess was something to fear.

“Belladonna Took.”

“It’s Baggins now, you should know considering you _threatened my fiancé on my wedding day_!”

“How did you find out about that?”

“Bungo told me when he thought he was going to die, said he was sorry for the cold feet he’d entertained before our wedding. Between you and Father, it’s a surprise Bungo was still waiting for me at the end of the aisle! What are you doing here?” She raged.

“He’s looking for someone to share in an adventure.” Bellamira answered before Gandalf could.

“Ruddy old bastard.” Dwalin heard the low whine that Balin emitted at the thought of a wizard being talked to like that and wanted to roll his eyes.

Honestly, where did he think their Burglar got it from?

“Bungo is dead?” Gandalf was suddenly all sympathy. “Oh my poor chil-“

“No he’s not. It was just a close thing and he was afraid of dying with secrets between us.” Belladonna Baggins said, still glaring at Gandalf. In fact she was so engrossed in it that she hadn’t even noticed the dwarves, her eyes aimed at a level too high for the dwarves to be seen.

"Where is Papa anyway?"

“Oh he had to stop at the apothecary to get something for his stomach. Poor man couldn’t bear to be rude and sampled some seed cake in Bree that the waitress insisted he try, hasn’t voided his bowels since!”

“I...did not need to know that.”

Belladonna stopped glaring at Gandalf long enough to smile mischievously at her daughter and that was when she noticed the many behemoths of dwarves standing behind Bellamira. In a trice she had Bellamira behind her and a pitchfork held out in front of her.

“Who the hell are you lot?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....that was an unexpected amount of response for the first chapter. I spent more time processing it than I did actually writing the chapter. Actually I think I might still be processing it...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as much Bellamira or Thorin in this one. Plenty of Bungo and Balin though.

The rake remained pointed at them even as Gandalf explained why the dwarves were there.

“You want my daughter to go with you to steal from a dragon?!”

Admittedly the explanation left much to be desired.

“Tell no one of this, he says and then tells everyone he meets.” Thorin grumbled.

Their standoff grew more and more tense, everyone unwilling to harm a woman who was quite rightfully angry but equally unwilling to let her dismember them as she was threatening to do. A logical reasoning when considering that the girl she was defending was watching the chaos unfold with unfettered glee.

“Oh, hello.” A stout hobbit man, with the same sandy curls that Bellamira sported and travelling clothes, stood in the doorway that had not been closed since Belladonna had entered. “Who might you all be? Friends of Gandalf?” He said, rather cheerfully for someone who looked distinctly green around the gills. The effects of the bad seedcake from Bree, they presumed, as this could be no other than Bungo Baggins.

“Of sorts.” Gandalf answered before anyone could say anything. “We needed a safe place to talk and I thought a hobbit’s hospitality would earn us sanctuary but-“His eyes flicked to Belladonna with her rake still up. “It appears I was wrong.”

“Oh?” He turned to the side to finally notice his wife and daughter, battle ready. “Good heavens, that’s no way to treat guests.”

Both women turned exasperated eyes to the hobbit that simply stood there with hands on his hips. Finally with eye rolls and grumbles the rake was lowered and everyone heaved a sigh of relief.

“Now, have you all eaten or might I be able to fix you something?” He asked and shut the door behind him.

“Oh no we’re fine, we simply wanted to discuss the matters of a quest.”

“He wants Mimi to go face a dragon.” Belladonna said, immediately wrapping an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and pulling her close.

Bungo was confused. “Why would anyone want to face a dragon?”

“Perhaps we’d best discuss these matters while sitting?” Gandalf interjected.

They moved the party to the parlour with Bungo still fussing over his guests and asking everyone if they needed anything and in doing so, proceeding to make everyone feel rather guilty about the way they had barged in on Bag-End and emptied it of all its food and ale. Balin, Thorin and Gandalf faced the three hobbits gravely.

“Now then, let’s start from the beginning shall we?” Bungo puffed on his pipe, contently sinking into his armchair. “What’s all this about a dragon then?”

For once Gandalf allowed Thorin to take the lead and he talked in his deep sonorous voice of a fierce love for Erebor and the loss that had befallen them. He spoke long into the night when finally they came upon the Arkenstone and how a Burglar was needed to steal it to unite the armies of dwarves to re-take the last great kingdom.

“Well,” Bungo said, eyes a great deal wider than they had been before. “Why the rush? All of you  seem far too tired to begin travelling again when you’ve only just stopped.”

“There is a bounty on Thorin’s head.” Gandalf explained.

Belladonna looked vaguely impressed that Thorin had earned himself such hate from the orcs. “Well that explains all the orcs milling about Amon Sul.”

“Orcs?” Thorin growled, hand reaching for his oaken shield.

“And Wargs as well. And they seemed well trained too, not the usual fare.”

Gandalf and Balin exchanged glances. “Gundabad orcs.”

“Probably. Or Moria ones, that pale one looked like he’d stepped right out of story books.” Belladonna and Bungo discussed, grabbing Thorin’s attention almost immediately.

“Pale you say?”

“Bone white almost, yes.”

“His arm, was it-“

“He only had the one, other one was replaced by some hook thing.”

“Azog.” Balin said softly but Thorin shook his head unwilling to accept it.

“He is dead.”

“Course he is, we killed him.” Belladonna said cheerfully.

“What?”

“Poisoned their food and water while they slept, they’re all dead.” She said flippantly before turning to her husband with a  loving smile. “It was Bungo’s idea, he was so quiet too, sneaking around so quietly through their camp and playing with their rations like that.”

Bungo flushed red kissing the back of his wife’s hand.

“You mean...Azog is dead?” Thorin asked breathlessly looking like he would keel over any second.

“I don’t know who this Azog fellow is but if he’s the pale chap with slashing scars and one hand and a white warg then yes he’s dead.”

Balin left Thorin to process the thought that Azog had survived when he cut off his arm and that he hadn’t been the one to kill him and instead turned to Bungo.

“So you see, we need Miss Baggins to be the Company Burglar.”

“I understand and I would let Mimi go with you but there is a problem.”

“The dragon has been asleep for sixty years-“ Balin rushed to reassure him but was cut off with a snort.

“It’s not the dragon I’m worried about, it’s him.” He pointed at Thorin who had finally managed to accept Azog’ fate and was now looking around confused.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I can’t very well let my daughter go running off into the wild with some dwarf who looks at her like she’s made of sunshine!” He turned to Bellamira who was watching the proceedings with interest. “Not that you aren’t darling, it’s just not appropriate to be courting on the road and that’s exactly what that boy’s going to do.”

“Boy?!” Thorin spluttered.

“So really, I’m quite sorry but I simply cannot condone Mimi going on such a quest.”

“And even the most Took-ish of my family wouldn’t go where a dragon waits. If my father was a bit younger he would have gone with you but his bones ache far too much for such a long journey.” Belladonna mused.

Balin drooped. “I see. I suppose I can’t convince you that Thorin’s merely suffering a concussion and unable to think clearly?”

Bungo snorted. “I was so drunk I was seeing quadruple when I decided Belladonna was the one for me and as you can see I haven’t changed my mind.” He patted his wife’s hand sweetly before standing up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I shall go and make up the beds for you.”

He left, Belladonna following close behind.

Balin looked at their backs with barely concealed fascination. “Are they always so-?”

“Yes. Papa began accompanying us on our trips after he recovered from being sick, he wanted to see the world all of a sudden. When the two of them go off together they never call it an adventure they call it a  honeymoon. It’s sickening honestly.” Bellamira said dryly. “It’s also why I refused to go on trips with them after the first one. The lack of thick walls between them and me was...terrible, just terrible.” She shuddered.

“So you won’t come with us lass?”

She shrugged. “As head of the Baggins family, father does still have some power over me. But he would never force his sense of propriety on me and in return I do him the courtesy of not...misbehaving.”

Balin sighed. “It’s just as well. The odds were always against us. At any rate, I thank you, Mistress Baggins for your kindness and hospitality.” His eyes twinkled with mischief rather reminiscent of Gandalf. “And for the entertainment. Haven’t seen my brother twitch like that in years, not since Fili and Kili were beardlings.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t long before the song of the Misty Mountains reverberated through Bag-End. For a moment it was no longer a smial but a deep cavern, a mine, a dwarven stronghold. Bellamira knocked on the door of her parents’ room and her father opened it with the same look of resignation that she felt. They made plans and drew up papers of all kind before returning to the study where Balin still sat, playing with a quill in his fingers.

“You planned that.” She accused the snowy bearded dwarf who looked far too innocent.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He reiterated.

“Ugh fine I’ll be the Company Burglar.”

“But we have our own contract.” Bungo said and tossed the parchment to Balin who paled considerably.

“What’s this?”

“Why a contract hiring you as Miss Baggins’ chaperone, of course.” Bungo smiled.

Balin couldn’t believe he’d ever thought the hobbit to be an innocent.


	4. Chapter 4

Thorin could not often sleep well. It was an effect of years of warring and wandering, orcs still haunted his dreams, Azog most of all. But that night he slept long and deep and dreamed most wonderful things.

Azog the pale drinking poisoned stew, turning green and dying. Azog getting crushed by a rolling bale of hay. Azog being grilled over a fire by Bungo and Belladonna, seasoned to perfection. Azog being hit by coconuts falling off trees. Azog impaling himself on a cactus.

It was a wonderful dream and he woke only because the smell of food invading his senses was just as wonderful as his dreams.

He followed his nose to the impromptu extended dining room they had created the day before and found everyone else already there. On the table were multiple breakfast foods stacked high, a tower of pancakes, many plates full of fried bacon, bowls brimming with herbed butter and rolls of breads of all kinds, even little cups of crispy bread filled to the brim with savoury stuffing.

His nephews were already stuffing their faces and as Bungo Baggins entered with a platter of scrambled eggs before sitting down himself, Thorin greeted their host and took a seat. Across from his chair, behind the diminishing jug of orange juice sat Bellamira, ignoring all the food on the table to eat what appeared to be a rather bland porridge.

“I thought Hobbits enjoy their food?” Thorin (tried to) tease and she lifted a brow.

“Hobbit now, am I? Not a halfling?”

“I do not repeat my mistakes Mistress Baggins.” Thorin said in his deepest, most majestic voice, known to bring women and Dwarrowdam alike to their knees voice, only to yelp as a spoon rapped his knuckles fiercely.

Balin, oddly enough, loomed over his head.

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t flirt with my charge, Thorin.” He said and while the rest looked at him with confusion (except for Dwalin who had been switching between nothing but terrified, suspicious and resigned since last night) Bungo and Belladonna beamed at the snowy haired dwarf.

“What?”

“I have been hired as Miss Baggins’ chaperone. It is my duty to make sure that all of you-” And although he addressed the group his eyes were fixed on Thorin, “conduct yourself in manner behooving the rules of propriety of both Dwarvish and Hobbit cultures.”

Well...that was a problem. It would be difficult to court Miss Baggins with Balin watching.

Not impossible, but certainly difficult.

Then again, with Azog dead Thorin could use a challenge. Yes, this would work nicely, he could impress her with his natural majesticness and prowess in battle and earn her affections through his sheer force of personality.

He could work with this.

“I don’t like the look on your face.” Dwalin said, looking at him suspiciously. Before Thorin could say anything the future Mrs Oakenshield answered for him, sneering.

“Nothing about his face is likeable.”

Alright, this might be harder than he thought.

* * *

Dwalin had been on edge for decades now. It had begun with the Sack of Erebor, continued with growing attacks on Dwarrow caravans during their wandering days and then solidified into a permanent awareness at Azanulbizar. Consequently when Bellamira, walking between him and Thorin, raised her hands to the sky and began mouthing thanks and many silent exclamations of gratitude the closer they got to the Green Dragon and the farther they were from Bag-End, his hand reached for the axes on his back. And as par for the course she, of course, noticed that.

“Put the axes down Master Dwalin, I’m not going to do anything.” She said, amused.

His hand drifted from his axes to the blade he kept tucked away in his pocket and he sighed happily as he felt its weight through the fabric.

“May I ask why you’re suddenly thanking your maker lass?” Balin wondered as Dwalin did only with the courage to say it out loud.

“You may ask.” She reassured him with a too wide smile.

“Why are you so thankful to leave home then Miss Baggins?” Thorin did the intense staring thing he thought was attractive but came off as creepy and Balin politely wedged himself between their fearless leader and their Burglar.

“Because right about now my parents are in the post honeymoon phase which is not really that different from their honeymoon phase. Papa will say he’s glad to be home, Mumsy will say home is with him, wherever he is, he’ll agree and then they spend the rest of the week _reassuring_ each other of their love with profuse proclamations and...other things I don’t want to think about. It is not fun to be around.”

“This happens often?”

“Every. Single. Time.”

“Well, well, well.” A nasal voice spoke and as if one the Company turned to find themselves looking at a sour faced young hobbit lass in an unfortunately coloured puce gown. “If it isn’t Mad Bellamira Baggins, off on another adventure.”

“Hello Lobelia, come to say hello to my companions? Well they are Dwarves so I suppose they really must have a way with metals. Perhaps you wanted to ask if one of them was a silversmith? I know you’ve been having troubles with those spoons of you- oh wait, I’m confusing my silverware for yours, how silly of me! I don’t know how anyone could make such a mistake, honestly my silverware confused for your North Farthing cutlery, ridiculous!” Dwalin didn’t know why the other hobbit flushed so hard at that, nor why she was doing the impression of a tomato but it really was quite amusing.

“ _You-_ ,” She swallowed whatever she was going to say, looking even more sour faced than ever but controlling herself admirably and laughing with fake joviality. “Oh, you silly girl, you! Just make sure you don’t come back with boots on your feet!”

“I won’t but...” Bellamira lowered her voice and leaned in closer to the other lass. “But you know, if you wanted some, I could get you a pair. I know you’ve been complaining about calluses on your feet. It could be our secret, shh!”

For a moment Dwalin wondered if Dori had found the time to put a kettle on boil for a cup of tea before realising it was old sour face making that high pitched sound. Utterly outraged, she was now raving mad and it was only the judgemental looks of the hobbits on the lane on the hill above them that stopped her.

“You are a wretched thing!” She hissed before leaving in a flurry, her nose up in the air so high Dwalin finally realised that the strange yellow thing on her hat was a pattern meant to resemble a sunflower.

“A rival perhaps, Miss Baggins?” Balin inquired.

“No, a friend actually.”

“If that’s how you treat friends I must be a very good friend indeed.” Thorin smirked.

Dwalin never realised how much Thorin’s smirk lacked in terms of deviousness, smugness and just plain superiority until he saw Bellamira smirk.

“ _So_ good that you’re practically a brother.”

This time it was Thorin who sounded like a kettle.

Strange, Dwalin hadn’t thought Dwarrow could make such noises.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hello there Mimi!” Kili said jovially ignoring Dwalin’s sharp intake of breath and the slashing motions he was making at his neck. Kili was unafraid and he would do whatever he could to help his Uncle win a lady’s heart.

Although she didn’t really seem like a lady. She was too good at living out in the wild, too good at belching, too good at flicking pebbles at Gandalf’s head when he wasn’t looking and as of right now, too good at waving a sharp knife in his face.

“No one gets to call me Mimi but my parents.” She growled and Kili gulped.

“Okay, okay I won’t call you Mimi!” He hurried to say as her knife drew closer to his face. His pretty, pretty face.

“Hey!” Fili protested and Kili beamed, glad that his older brother had come to his rescue. “Is that one of my knives?!”

Or not.

Bellamira shrugged. “I had to practise burgling didn’t I?”

“Wait, if I can’t call you Mimi what can I call you?” Kili asked, adamant. The three steps he took away from her in no way diminished his determination.

“Bellamira.”

“But it’s too long!” He whined making sure to make his most adorable face.

She remained unimpressed.

“It is dawning upon me that I am a cat person. So your puppy face doesn’t work on me.”

“Oh alright. But really it’s too long, can’t I just call you Mira instead?”

“No.”

“You’re mean.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Why would you say that?”

She smiled then and Kili finally understood why Dwalin flinched every time she smiled. “I thought we were stating facts about each other. I’m mean, you’re an idiot, Thorin’s lost-“

He stopped her before she could continue, ready to use it as a subtle segue.

“Speaking of my uncle,” If the little snort Dwalin let out was anything to go by he was not subtle in the least. The unimpressed look she shot him also made it quite obvious but Kili didn’t have the time to think of the right way to say things. He had an uncle to pimp out. “He’s quite brave you know.”

“Really?”

“Yep, faced Azog head on. He’s the one who cut off his arm.”

Kili told her the same story that Balin had told him and Fili while they’d played the little joke on Ori who had still been awake. Dori was just about to pummel the two for scaring his little brother when Thorin had roared at them that they knew nothing of the world. After that Kili had to help Thorin, after all his uncle had been through he deserved to get laid.

If Bellamira had been awake for Balin’s story telling she might have been impressed too. Kili could see the growing interest as he told her of Thorin charging into battle and driving the orcs back.

“So he led the charge that ultimately led the orcs to go back into Moria.”

“Yes.”

“The place that they were trying to get into and reclaim.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand, wouldn’t it have been easier to lure the forces farther away from there and then slaughter them? I mean they’d be stretching their forces thinner, they wouldn’t be as close to their base camp. What was the point of pushing them in?”

Kili was flabbergasted. He had no words which was a rare occurrence for him.

Why _did_ they drive the orcs back in?

Luckily Dwalin came to his rescue.

“The battle would not have been won by then anyway. We were overcome and the scouts came back with news of the Durin’s Bane in the lower levels. Winning was not the point anymore. We just fought so that we could give our dead a proper burial instead of them being turned into a feast for Orcs.”

“Durin’s Bane?”

“A Balrog.” Gandalf said helpfully.

“Ah those things. Glorfindel slayed one, didn’t he? I asked him about it but he got very moody and looked off into the distance dramatically. You know, the way Thorin does sometimes.” Kili’s jaw dropped at the comparison and even Bellamira must have sensed the ridiculousness of his Uncle, a great dwarrow, being put in the same box as an elf because she laughed. “Oh what am I saying, not sometimes, all the time. I thought elves were dramatic but Thorin really takes the cake.”

“I don’t think-“Before Kili could finish stringing his words into a sentence Bellamira had shifted her attention to Gandalf.

“Speaking of elves, are we going to Rivendell or not?”

Gandalf had barely opened his mouth to speak when Kili’s uncle roared.

“We will not go near that place.”

“Excellent, we’ll just go to Erebor and sit there and twiddle our thumbs because the clues we don’t know hidden on the map we can’t read haven’t been solved. Fabulous. Personally I think that’s a great idea.” Bellamira smiled.

“And why is that Mistress Baggins?” His uncle growled. Really, all that work Kili put into talking up Thorin only to have him spoil all of it because of elves.

“Because that means I won’t have to steal from a dragon.”

“It is the dragon who stole from us. You are simply going to return our belongings to us.”

“That would be a lot more believable if I wasn’t hired as a Burglar.”She rolled her eyes at Thorin and turned to Balin instead. “Do you know of someone else who might be able to read the map? Unlock the hidden messages in it?”

“No but-“

“Jings crivvens, do you not hear yourself?!”

“Don’t even bother, Bella, I have tried reasoning with them but they are stubborn louts.”

“Honestly, we need their advice. What’s the big deal?” Bellamira wondered.

“I do not need their advice.”

“We have a map that we can’t read, Lord Elrond could help us.”

“Help? What help coul-“

Before Thorin could finish, she interrupted him. “Oh I don’t have it in me to listen to this again.”

She stalked off and sat down next to Ori. His eyes grew wide and he looked at Dori and then Dwalin but they busied themselves in meaningless things and the young scribe shook.

“So, do you have any books that I can read or is it all in the secret dwarvish language.”

“I-I might have something in here.” Ori busied himself in going through his pack so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with her. In Iglishmek he signed a little message to Dori.

_‘Coward’_

In between fumbles a few books fell out of his bag and the two hurriedly picked them up before the wet of the grass could seep in.

“This is a Sindarin book.”

“Y-yes, I’m trying to learn it.”

“I could teach you.”

“You would?”

“Sure, anything’s better than watching Thorin alienate people.” As if the world was conspiring to prove her right, Gandalf stalked past them.

“And where are you going?” She drawled even as he reached the very edges of their camp.

“To seek the company of the only one of us who has sense.”

“Who might that be?”

“Myself, Miss Baggins!”

She frowned. “How rude. It’s Ms not Miss.” Shaking her head she pulled in closer to Ori and began explaining the script. Ori felt the heat of a stare on his neck and turned to find his King glaring at him and gulped.

But language was more important so he put the glare out of his mind.

Besides, Dori may not protect him against Bellamira but he had no problem going against Thorin.


	6. Chapter 6

Bellamira hummed as she took the two bowls into the forest where the young dwarf princes were supposed to be keeping watch. She was surprised when she found them doing exactly that, staring very intensely at the ponies. They weren’t exactly the obedient kind. But then she saw that two of the ponies were not there and realised what had happened. It didn’t take a genius after all, especially since she could still see twigs in their hair and the grass stains on Kili back. They must have been tussling and not noticed the ponies’ disappearance. Silly boys.

She left the bowls on an overturned tree trunk and crept up to them. They didn’t notice even when she was so close they should have been feeling her breath on their necks. It was little wonder they needed a hobbit to do the stealing for them.

She spread her arms, hand resting in the air next to their ears respectively. It was a bit of an effort because they were both taller than her and Kili was taller than Fili but she got her hands positioned perfectly and then finally pushed. Their heads clanged together and they clutched at them making sounds of pain and swearing and she wondered what they would do when an actual enemy inevitably snuck up on them.

Die, probably.

“You were supposed to be keeping watch.” She chided and the two had the grace to look abashed which was more than she expected. But just as quickly as it appeared, it went away.

“We encountered a bit of a problem.”

“Yes, I noticed. Daisy and Bungo are missing.” She said, cocking a brow and while Kili blanched Fili remained unchanged.

He would make a good king, she decided. Only idiot politicians actually let their emotions show the way Kili did.

 “Well we thought as the official Burglar, you might want to take a look at it.” Even as the words left Fili’s mouth Kili pulled him to the side and began whispering.

Kili, she discovered as she heard everything he was saying, was very bad at whispering.

_“What are you doing, you can’t just send her out there alone!”_

_“I know but it’ll be good, Uncle will have a reason to rescue her and then we won’t have to put him with his brooding.”_

Bellamira almost laughed as she heard that. All of that.

Because she expected Thorin would need rescuing and she was absolutely certain that no matter what Thorin always brooded.

“Boys,” She called out and slowly, as if expecting a horror of the night they tuned. Bellamira loved it when people treated her like that. It made her feel even more powerful than she usually did which was saying something because she always felt powerful. “Why don’t I take care of this and you tow eat your soup.” She held out their bowls and with a very obvious conversation of the eyes the two accepted.

Bellamira left them there and went off following the trail of uprooted trees and found herself at the trees lining the edge of a troll camp.

Two of them sat there, one stirring the pot, the other sneezing uncontrollably and then the sounds of trees parting alerted her to the arrival of another troll, this one carrying a pony under each arm, Myrtle and Minty.

That would not do. She rather liked Myrtle; the ginger haired pony was her best travelling companion.

It didn’t take long to figure a good plan. They argued among each other about food, and what counted as it. Not that it mattered, the cook, Bert was adding squirrel dung as a garnish, they wouldn’t know good food if it hit them in their face.

For a moment she pitied them.  Then she strode into the clearing.

“What on Earth are you doing?” Bellamira roared and they all but jumped in surprise. “You’re making stew out of stringy horses that are more hair than flesh when you could be having fat and juicy dwarves?!”

“Dwarves? Where?” The cook said immediately while the one who had brought the ponies eyed her with suspicion.

“Well back at the camp where you got the ponies of course.” She rolled her eyes.

Honestly the dwarves didn’t notice the trolls and the trolls didn’t notice the dwarves. As far as she was concerned they deserved one another.

“But those’s got swords and axes.” The little sick one whined and the pony thief growled.

“Why are you helping us little weasel?”

“First off, I am not a weasel, I am a Bellus Mirus.”She casually walked and sat down next to the pony thief and he was taken aback. For a small thing like her to be unafraid of a giant like him was probably strange to him, especially since she looked to be unarmed “Secondly, those dwarves have been holding me captive for days now and I want my _revenge_.”

“Revenge?” The pony thief muttered, still suspicious but the other two leaned in eagerly.

“Yes, _revenge_.” Bellamira smiled an unpleasant smile and rubbed the fingers of her hands together to dazzling effect. “Now listen carefully, this is what we have to do.”

* * *

Dwalin and Thorin discussed their mutual hatred for elves enthusiastically. For the moment they were content, they had a fire going, their bellies were filled with rich stew and the Tharkun’s grumblings about going to elves was no longer for them to hear. Sure it might have been useful to have the wizard around but no one was exactly missing him really.

So of course, their moment of contentment was interrupted when three trolls showed up at their camp with a screaming and shouting Bellamira clutched in their hands. Quick as could be the dwarves were ready and armed but they held her up higher and snarled.

“Lay your arms down or we’ll rip ‘ers off.”

And with grumbles they did and were tied up by the trolls and hauled onto their shoulders. As soon as the last dwarf was in bindings Bellamira stopped screaming and dropped onto the ground with ease.

“Excellent now let’s get them back to camp and prepare them for the feast!” She clapped her hands enthusiastically.

“Feast?”

And the gears in Dwalin’s head began to turn. He knew that she had not liked travelling with them but to betray them to trolls? How could she have done that?

And how could they have been so foolish as to believe her shrieking and yelling to be real?

“TRAITOR!” He yelled and struggled against his bonds but it was useless, they were too tight and the knots too complicated.

Beside him Thorin was almost in tears.

“Why, Bellamira? When all I have ever wanted is to feed you grapes and carve you out of gold.”

“Oh do shut up.” She ordered and in his state of sorrow Thorin did exactly that, still brooding and then turned to one of the trolls. “Now do you have the water and lemons ready?”

“Yes mistress.” The tow other trolls carried out a chariot from the Gondolin age that had been sealed so as not to leak and filled to the brim. Steam arose from it and Dwain shuddered at the thought of being turned into stew.

“Good now strip the dwarves and put them into it.”

They were all humiliated as the trolls followed the instructions to the t, leaving only their skivvies on the dwarves and then plopping them into the warm steamy water.

“I don’ see why we have to do this.” One of the trolls grumbled. “It’ll take too long; we’ll never have them cooked by dawn.”

“Oh we will, don’t you fret.” Bellamira assured him. “The water will soften them so they become almost meltingly tender and the lemons have acid in them so they begin cooking even faster. Plus this way all the parasites in their tubes will be killed off. Once they’re done all we need to do is finish them off in a pan with some hot oil and squirrel dung.”

The trolls’ faces brightened at that thought and went about the work, carefully prodding the dwarves at regular interval until finally their patience ran out.

“Dawn’s not far away.” A troll said and while they stewed in the now almost tepid water they saw that light was just creeping over the horizon.

“It’s far away enough.” Bellamira assured them. “Besides that huge boulder will keep off the sunlight for a long time.”

As if summoned by her words, Gandalf appeared on the very rock she was talking about.

“Who’s that?”

“Can we eat ‘im too?”

“The dawn will take you all!” The wizard said and with one strike of his staff against the rock it broke into two and the sunlight that the trolls had been dreading streamed in turning them into stone. Cheers rang out from the dwarves until they realised they were still tied up.

The traitor walked up to them and began freeing them of their bonds.

“What took you so long?” She asked Gandalf and Thorin who was just being freed reeled in surprise.

“This was your plan all along?”

“Of course!” She said cheerfully. “Now the trolls are dealt with _and_ I don’t have to put up with your stink.”

More than one dwarf smelt their pits and was pleasantly surprised. She was right, they did smell lemony fresh now.

“Couldn’t you just have told us to take a bath?” Dwalin asked and got a snort in answer.

“Course I could, but what’s the fun in that?!”

Why of all the hobbits in the word did they end up with the mad one?


End file.
